


Immortal Software, Inc.

by phinnia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-30 19:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia
Summary: In a software company, there are two roles:  development and test.   They are frequently at odds.Aziraphale, junior software developer, meets a cute software tester on his first day at the office.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

"All right." Gabriel sipped out of his World's Best Boss mug and smiled. "Aziraphale! Do you have a nickname?"

"Uh. Not really, no."

"Right." He smiles again. "You're a junior developer here at Immortal Software. We've given you a desk by the end there. There are drinks, there's coffee, tea ... anything you need. Just get to working on that project, all right? Everything's all installed on your work calendar, on your laptop." He gives Aziraphale a slap on the shoulder that stings. "Have a great first day!"

"Well, I'm certainly going to -" Aziraphale stopped talking when he realized Gabriel had already left. He noticed there was an empty cube by the end, and went over there to sit while he took a good look around the place.

It seemed to be divided into two areas. The part of the area he was in was done in neat rows, one behind the other. The desks and chairs were all ergonomically correct. It was very proper. 

The other half of the room was filled with ... floppy red and black bean bag chairs. There is only one chair, an ornate and terribly gaudy throne that looks like it comes from a costume house. There is a large ... aardvark hat ... sits on the atrocious matching table in front of the chair. 

Aziraphale logs in to his computer and begins to read through the code already written. 

"Hello." The woman sitting next to him says, and he jumps.

"Oh, hi." he smiles. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Just wanted to introduce myself." She has short red hair. "I'm Michael. My pronouns are he and him."

"Oh, hi! I'm Aziraphale. I also use male pronouns." 

"Oh, you're the new guy." He smiles. "If the testers disturb you, just let me know. They can get a little ... you know, loud."

"The testers? Aren't we supposed to work with them?"

"Well, yes. But they can still be a little loud." He smiles, and goes back to his work. "Just ask if you need anything."

He can hear the testers come in. He knows it's them, because the developers come in one at a time and introduce themselves. He's already met Sandalphon, who is head of development but who Aziraphale thinks is an idiot and is just coasting on past successes, and Uriel, who is really quite smart and probably _should_ be head of development. 

The testers come in in an enormous group. They are singing 'We are the Champions' by Queen. 

Aziraphale turns around and looks at this mob. No, there are only four of them. A short woman wearing a cat hoodie dressed in all black, a blonde with spiked hair, a slightly shorter dark-haired one, and a very tall one with red hair and a snake tattoo on the side of his face. 

"All right, shut up and listen!" the woman says with an air of authority. "Who broke the build last?"

"Hastur did it." the red-haired one says. He's wearing sunglasses, so Aziraphale can't see his eyes.

They all look at the blonde. The woman picks up the aardvark hat and tosses it to Hastur. The blonde - Hastur - groans and sits down in one of the beanbag chairs, putting the aardvark hat on. He takes out his laptop from a shoulder bag and starts writing code. The dark-haired one leans up against Hastur and starts writing code as well. The tall one sits on the enormous throne with his feet up on the desk. He is long, angular and lanky. A tall drink of water indeed, Aziraphale thinks to himself. 

The woman pulls a chair up to the enormously tacky desk - well, it's more like a table - reads something on her laptop screen, and then storms into Gabriel's office. The door slams so hard that the walls of the cubicles shake.

"Budget problem, I bet." Michael murmurs.

"Oh?" He doesn't usually gossip. This isn't gossip, though. This is ... information.

"Oh, yes. Gabe's always cutting Beelz short on the budget. She hates it. She'll fight him for every scrap of money."

"I think they're fucking on the desk." Uriel says, her eyes lighting up.

"They aren't." Sandalphon scoffs. "She's a _tester_. He's a project manager. Why would he be caught dead with a _tester_?

"Shut up, Sandalphon." Michael kicks him under the desk.

They have a planning meeting that morning. Developers sit on one side of the table. Aziraphale finds himself sitting across from the tall redhead. 

He smiles. "I know we're supposed to be hereditary enemies, test and development and all. I'm Crowley."

"Aziraphale." He waves, smiling back. "I'm a junior developer. And you are -"

"Probably the best tester this building has ever seen." He chugs a Red Bull. 

"I thought the woman, Beelz, -"

"Oh, sure, Beelz runs things, but that's just because she's got the training in Waterfall and shit like that. I'm better at making things break." 

"All right!" Gabriel comes into the meeting, sipping a coffee in his 'World's Best Boss' mug. "Let's start the meeting! 

The meeting is boring. Introductions. Aziraphale is introduced to Ligur, who is sitting beside Hastur, the only one of the test mob he doesn't know yet, who grunts in reply. They discuss issues with compile time for mobile versions of the application. Sandalphon has some code that he wants to discuss. It gets discussed at length. Hastur mimes falling asleep on Ligur's shoulder. Sandalphon ignores them and keeps talking. Crowley has another Red Bull and several Tylenol from his pocket. Sandalphon keeps talking. 

Finally, at the end of that interminable meeting, Gabriel lets them leave.

"How many errors did you count in that code?" He can hear Hastur muttering to Ligur.

"Six." 

"That's before it's even run, too. Fuckin' guy's only head of dev because he's the boss's favorite. Goddamn kiss-ass."

"Run, never mind tested." Crowley breaks in. "I bet it won't even get through the first test pass. I counted seven. And you _know_ Sandalphon never writes his tests unless we nag the crap out of him."

Aziraphale chuckles and goes into the cafeteria. He sits at a table by the window with a plate full of salad with no-fat dressing, like his sister recommended, and looks at it disappointingly.

"Do you actually _want_ that pile of leaves? I mean, are you a zebra or something?"

He looks up. It's Crowley. He's carrying a tray, which has three Red Bulls, a box of sushi, and some baklava.

"Not really, no." He sighs, shoving it away.

"Here, have this instead." Crowley puts the sushi in front of him. "I'm not eating today."

"You can't just survive on those things."

"They help with the migranes." Crowley puts his head on the table. "Fucking migranes. Right now just looking at this food is making me nauseous, so it's better that you eat it." 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Aziraphale asks curiously. 

"Eat the food, so I don't have to look at it?"

Aziraphale eats the sushi. It's surprisingly good. "This is delicious."

"I've had better. Of course, that was in Japan, when I was in Tokyo, so I don't think you can do better than that. This is pretty good, though. Gabe likes to splash out on food, mostly for the clients. Try the baklava." Crowley says, mostly to the table. 

"I really shouldn't ..."

He looks up, over his glasses. His eyes are surprising - yellow, almost amber. "You want to, right?"

"Well, yes."

"So eat it."

He does. The baklava is flaky, dripping with wildflower honey, scattered with just a few walnuts, and positively _delicious_.

Crowley is leaning over the table, his chin on his hand now, with a slight smile on his face. "Good?"

"Oh, it's _scrumptious_."

Crowley leans over and gently touches the very corner of his lip.

"You had a little honey, you know. Just there." He very, very slowly licks his finger off.

Their eyes meet.

"Crowley!" Beelz shouts from the other end of the cafeteria. "You broke the fucking build!"

He chuckles. "I guess I get the hat next. Seeya." 

Aziraphale watches him saunter off, swiping the hat off of Hastur's head and putting it on his own. 

How anybody can _walk_ that seductively at work? How is every person in the room not staring at him?

After work, he's about to walk to the bus stop when he hears Crowley's voice again. "Hey!"

He looks around. Crowley is leaning out of a surprisingly well-kept Bentley.

"Want a ride? Bus takes forever to get here."

"Sure." 

"We can't fit another person." Ligur complains.

"Sit on Hastur's lap, you love it." Beelz says. "You always end up there anyway, or the other way around."

Ligur sighs, but he and Hastur do, in fact, end up mostly in each other's laps. 

"Are you driving the speed limit today?" Beelz asks. "I mean, new person in the car and all that shit?"

"Never!" Crowley adjusts his sunglasses, grins, winks at Aziraphale, and actually floors it.

He'd thought she was joking. She wasn't joking at all. They pass parked cars at a blur. He actually sees Crowley take a corner on two wheels. Queen is blaring out the speakers.

"Did you ever drive for NASCAR?" Azriaphale shouts over the noise of 'Killer Queen'.

"Nope!" Crowley shouts back. "Thought about it for a while, though." He pulls to a stop in front of a brownstone. "You guys alive back there? He wasn't about to die, Hastur, you didn't need to give him mouth to mouth. We only grazed that mailbox."

"You have blue mailbox paint on your front fender." Ligur says as they go inside. 

"Alright, Beelz." Crowley pulls a massive u-turn and goes back the other way. 

She sighs, but Aziraphale meets her eye in the rear view and he can see her smiling. 

"How're Adam and Warlock?" Crowley asks as he drives.

"Little holy terrors." Beelz rolls her eyes. "Covered the new nanny in glitter yesterday."

"You have children?" Aziraphale asks.

"Three-year old twins. They love Crowley, they think he's the devil incarnate."

"Didn't know you'd gotten a new nanny." Crowley says. 

"Oh, yeah. Newt. Crap with computers, good nanny though. Whiz at Go Fish and Old Maid, makes good PB&J's." Crowley stops in front of an apartment building this time, and Beelz gets out. "See you in the morning."

"Yup." 

The car is silent now, except for 'Fat Bottomed Girls' playing on the stereo.

"How's your migrane?" Aziraphale asks.

Crowley sighs. "Eh, it's about a six, but I've driven with a nine, so a lot better than it was earlier. I don't have to pull over and puke on the side of the road, that's all right." He huffs. "You want to do something? Get dinner? I mean. We can do something." He's watching Aziraphale over the rims of his glasses.

"We can, sure." Aziraphale looks back at him. 

Crowley smiles. "Let's find someplace with food, yeah?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is food. And <strike>gossip</strike> information about the developers. Also sex.

Aziraphale suggests a place that serves crepes he knows. 

Crowley shrugs as they walk inside the restaurant. "You'll be the one that's eating."

"You can't not be hungry at all."

"I can and I'm not, really. I'll just get coffee." He smiles again. "This is usually my Monday night. Actually this is an exciting Monday night. Usually I drink coffee and down a handful of Excedrin Migrane until I write enough code enough to pass out."

"Do you have any hobbies?" Aziraphale asks politely.

"Code."

"Any _other_ hobbies?"

"Did I already say code?" Crowley smirks. "I like ... driving. I listen to Queen and Velvet Underground. Get Bee's kids hyped up on sugar and leaving before they throw up." He looks over his glasses again, right at Aziraphale. "Sometimes I pick up cute guys and bring them home. That doesn't happen a lot, though, because I spend too much time coding."

"Do you really?" His mouth is awfully dry.

"Mmmm."

"Your crepes." The waitress sets them down in front of Aziraphale. "Are you sure _you_ don't want anything?" She smiles at Crowley.

"Everything I want I've got right here." Crowley smiles and raises his coffee cup, nodding towards Aziraphale slightly with a slight grin on his face. 

Aziraphale looks across the table at Crowley's long and wild angles, at how he sits with his back to the setting sun, sending his copper hair into a brilliant halo. 

"You really are beautiful." He whispers. 

"Nah." Crowley murmurs, but he's smiling again.

He holds out a bite of ham-and-cheese crepes. "You want a bite?"

"Do I need one?"

Aziraphale takes a deep breath. "Might need to keep your energy up. For later."

Crowley looks at him over his glasses with a very interested gaze. 

"Unless you'll be busy, you know. Coding." He smiles slightly.

"Ah, well." Crowley drinks some more of his coffee. "I don't know about that. Not with an offer like _that_ on the table." He eats the bite off the fork, running his tongue around his lips. "Mmmm. Yeah. I like the looks of my dessert, anyway. A hell of a lot better than coffee and Excedrin Migraine and nagging the shit out of Sandalphon over Microsoft Teams because he doesn't know how to write tests. Ohhh." He sighs. "Remind me not to talk about work."

"Don't talk about work." Aziraphale feeds him another bite. "Not while we're on a date like this."

"No. A real downer, isn't it?"

"It is. He seems ... a bit stupid."

"He couldn't find his own ass with both hands, a map, GPS and door to door directions from Waze." Crowley sighs. "He nags Uriel to write most of his code and she does it because she's scared shitless Gabriel will fire her. She's got a daughter to support, in a private preschool program. She went to Stanford, but she doesn't have the networking skills that Sandalphon does, and why am I talking about work again?" He puts his hand up. "Eeh, no more food. Migrane's ticking up to a seven." 

"Where's your apartment?" Aziraphale asks. 

"It's not too far from here, actually." 

As it turns out, Crowley has a studio apartment. A very clean studio apartment. It contains a bed covered with blankets and surrounded by laundry. And that's it. 

That's all right, that's all they really need. Just a bed.

The second they get up the stairs (he's on the second floor, in the corner) and inside the door, Crowley slams Aziraphale against it and their mouths snap together like Lego bricks. They kiss and it's hot and wet and heavy, and then they stagger backwards and fall on Crowley's bed. 

"You have great taste in beds." Aziraphale moans. 

"I know." Crowley nips down his neck. "I don't do furniture, but when I do, I try to get really classy with it. Mmm. Oh, I like the look of the dessert tray." He pulls Aziraphale's sweater off. "_You_ are the beautiful one. I'm just an ordinary guy who writes tests for a living." 

"A very sexy ordinary guy." Aziraphale murmurs, pulling off Crowley's black button-down shirt over his head. "With a very seductive walk."

"You like it? A lot of practice went into that." 

"I do." 

"You were watching me." Crowley wiggles out of his skin-tight jeans.

"I was." Aziraphale pulls Crowley's boxer-briefs down with his teeth.

"I could feel your eyes. Fuck, that was hot." Crowley breathes, stripping Aziraphale's chinos off. "I like it when your mouth is near my cock."

"Yeah?" Aziraphale whispers. "You don't think I'm too -"

"You are nothing except too perfect." Crowley nibbles on his collarbone. "Too perfect for me. No more grazing."

"Are you grazing on me?" Aziraphale laughs.

"Yeah, I am. You're delicious, too." 

"Get over here." Aziraphale grabs him by the knee, and drags Crowley's cock up toward his mouth. 

"Ooh. Mmm. Haven't done this in a - mmmmm, oh, you're a fucking mouthful. Love a mouthful. Oh, yeah, oh, fuck yuu've got talented fingers too, and - oh, fuck, fuck - "

"Crowley, shut up." Aziraphale laughs.

"Bad at shutting up." He wraps his lips around Aziraphale's cock and starts licking it like an ice cream cone or a popsicle. "Good at sucking cocks."

"Oh, yeah." Aziraphale gasps. "You really are." It had been ages since he'd done this - let himself be free like this with another - since university, he was sure. And Crowley was so unexpected - beautiful and brilliant and passionate about his work and amazing and ... and holy shit where did he learn to do that thing, God it felt great but he thought now was not the best time to ask, especially since he could feel that wild, not spiral in the middle of his back that meant he was just about to have a mind-blowing orgasm. He groaned and tipped his hips forward. Crowley's tongue was miles long. He had no idea how it even fit into his mouth. It should be registered as a sexually deadly weapon, along with his hips.

Crowley moans and wiggles around on top of him, and Aziraphale can feel the bitter-sweet spurts on his tongue.

"Fuck, you're good. You're so good. So amazing." Crowley's panting, pushing sweaty auburn hair out of his face.

"You too." He puts his arm around Crowley, and Crowley snuggles up against him, resting his head on Aziraphale's thigh. 

"How's your migrane now?" Aziraphale asks after a few minutes. 

"Down to a very respectable three." He slides up so he's the right way up on the bed and lays his head on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Mmmm. Sex helps. Something about exercise. I like to think of it as really fun acupuncture. That was you." 

Aziraphale snuggles down into the sheets. "Good taste in linen."

"Hell yes. Sleep is vitally important." He smiles across the pillow. "Give me half an hour I might be up for another round."

"Really?" 

"Oh, fuck yes. Or I might fall asleep on top of you. Could go either way." Crowley's eyes are already closed. He opens one eye. "I hog blankets, though, and I'm a relentless cuddler."

"That's all right." Aziraphale laughs. "I think I can put up with relentless cuddling."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La Tropezienne really does have the best croissants. Probably in the world. They are truly amazing.

He wasn't kidding about that, either. Crowley was like a snake when asleep, wrapping himself around Aziraphale. 

He woke up around six-thirty in the morning to the tapping of keys and Crowley muttering at his computer. "Will you ever learn to write a test yourself? I mean, I'm not asking much, you blathering mouth, I just want _you_ to do it and not pawn it off on Uriel for once in your fucking life. Never mind that she's a better coder than you are, she went to Stanford for fuck's sake, I just want you to do your fucking job for once. Where did you go to school, the Culinary Institute of America? Probably failed out of that, too. All you can do is schmooze. Why didn't you go into public relations? You'd be great at that. All they do is talk talk talk, just like you."

Aziraphale chuckles sleepily. 

"Oh, you're awake." Crowley sets his laptop down and raises his eyebrows. "Wanna shower with me?"

"Of course I do."

Crowley also splurges on very fancy shampoo. It smells like plants. Not like flowers, though, like green things, wild things. And soap. The soap is truly incredible. Not drying on your skin like a lot of soap is. There's lotion in it or something, and it smells like amber, and the smell of it is amazing, especially when mixed with the smell of Crowley himself, which is an unidentifiable musk underneath everything that drives Aziraphale to distraction.

"Mmmm." Crowley murmurs into his neck. "You need more love bites." 

"Are you like this all the time? I'm not complaining, I just want to know for later."

"Yuh-huh." He falls to his knees. "I survive on coffee, regular expressions, Red Bull, the occasional dose of semen, Excedrin Migraine and pure spite. Plus sometimes I eat food, but that's just for flavoring. Mmmmm." Now that tongue is around Aziraphale's cock again. "Time for breakfast."

Aziraphale sighs, flexing his fingers into Crowley's wet hair. "You're insatiable."

"Mmmm-hmmmm." Those eyes are sparkling up at him through the shower. Aziraphale moans as Crowley sucks him in, feeling his hands on his thighs and hips, long fingers caressing gently over every ripple of skin like he's cherished. He sees the very tip of that pink tongue on the edge of Crowley's lips, just flickering in and out, and it's maddening. Then Crowley's eyes light up and he almost swallows him down and Aziraphale comes with a hopeless, helpless moan. 

_"Where_ did you learn to do that?" he gasps when he gets his breath back.

"College." Crowley smirks. 

They pick up Hastur and Ligur first. Crowley drives like a maniac, but he stops before he picks anyone up at a bakery on First. 

"Hastur and Ligur are always going on about the croissants here." He smiles. "What flavor do you want?"

"Er ... do they have chocolate?"

"Yup." Crowley waltzes in using that completely obscene walk again, and twenty minutes later, he returns with a few paper bags. He hands one to Aziraphale. "Chocolate."

Aziraphale takes a bite. It is divine. "This is _incredible_."

"Apparently they're the best in the city." 

"They certainly taste like it." Aziraphale lets the sweet chocolate melt on his tongue, along with the amazing buttery, flaky pastry. "Mmm." 

Crowley pulls a ridiculously illegal U-turn right into traffic. 

"Crowley! Watch the pedestrian!"

"She's in the street, she knows the risk she's taking!" Crowley shouts, but he swerves. 

"What time were you supposed to pick up everybody?"

Crowley shrugs. "Whenever I get there. As long as we're in by ten Gabe doesn't really bitch."

Azraphale looks at his watch. It's ... nine-fifteen.

Well, Crowley is driving awfully fast. 

Seven minutes later, they're in front of Ligur and Hastur's brownstone. They're already waiting outside. Hastur is smoking, and Ligur is playing a cellphone game.

"Oh." Ligur says as he gets in. "_Now_ I see why you were late."

"I bought you croissants, shut the fuck up." Crowley throws the remaining bags at them. "Don't eat the raspberry, Beelz will cut your head off. And post incriminating photos of you wearing the 'I broke the build' hat on all social media streams. And probably that video she took of you two making out at last year's Christmas party on Tiktok."

"Wait, Beelz took a video of us?" Hastur chokes on his croissant.

"Oh, yeah." Crowley laughs. "You were probably too drunk to remember. You were sitting on his lap with your shirt off, he had his hand in your pants. What? It's not like it's not there all the time anyway."

Hastur's face was bright pink.

"Oh, daddy, I'm so hard for you." Crowley says in a high voice. "Oh, daddy."

"I'll erase every line of your code off the test server." Ligur mutters.

"Good luck figuring out my password. Using regular expressions these days." Crowley skids to a stop in front of Beelz's building. 

"Christ, where the hell were you, Crowley?" Beelz gets in the back of the car. "Oh, never the fuck mind."

"Bought you a raspberry croissant." Crowley says off-handedly.

"And you fuckin' well should have!" She pulls the croissant out of the bag. "Ooh, La Tropezienne. You're mostly forgiven." He takes a bite. "Mmmm. Raspberry, my favorite. You're totally forgiven now." 

Crowley and Ligur spend the rest of the trip to the office discussing Python, and when they get to the office they all go up together. Crowley's arm is around his waist, and when he gets to his cube, Crowley dips him and kisses him, long and slow and passionate, right against his desk.

"I will see you later, angel." he murmurs, and saunters across the room, all ass and hips and confidence. Then he sits down on the ridiculous throne, puts his feet up on the table, and puts the terrible aardvark hat on his head at a jaunty angle. "All right! Let's break some shit!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has a Wonderful, Terrible Idea.

Aziraphale spends most of the morning figuring out the rest of the code that's already been written. From the looks of things across the room, Hastur and Ligur are playing Fortnite, Crowley is listening to Velvet Underground, and Beelz is shooting Nerf darts at Gabriel's office door. He opens the door and she hits him in the head. 

"Nice one." Uriel says. 

"If she gets him twice, that's a date. Three times is foreplay." Aziraphale says softly. Michael chuckles from the next desk. 

Sandalphon just looks confused, but from the looks of things, that seems to be his default expression.

Crowley saunters over. "Sandalphon? Did you write those tests yet?"

"I'm getting to them."

"No, you aren't. You're getting Uriel to write them, _again_."

"You're a test engineer! Why can't you write the tests?" Sandalphon whines.

Crowley sits on Sandalphon's desk. "I see it's time to have this conversation, yet again, because you have the memory of a fruit fly. _Test engineers test code. They do not write code. You are a developer. De-vel-o-per. You write code. You write tests. I break tests. Do you understand?"_

"You've written code before."

"For the test server." Crowley sighs. "Can you just not do it? Do you not know how?"

"I can do it, of course I can do it!"

"Right, so show me. Demonstrate your mad coding skillz, oh mighty head of development. Go on."

"I've gotta see this." Beelz comes around to the back to stand behind him. 

Sandalphon begins tapping on the keyboard.

"No, you're doing it in Pascal." Crowley says. 

"You know Pascal?" Aziraphale says. 

"I taught myself Pascal." Crowley says proudly. "In a weekend. On an Apple IIE."

"It took me three days." 

"Three days, angel?" Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Why so long?"

"I fell asleep."

"He still has that computer." Beelz says, rolling her eyes. 

"It's vintage!" Crowley shouts. "Did you forget this is a Java shop?"

"I did not forget!" Sandalphon says indignantly.

"He forgot." Ligur stage whispers in Hastur's ear. "The only Java he knows is from Starbucks."

"Too right."

"I can't do this with all of you standing around ... harassing me!" Sandalphon shouts.

"Well, write your goddamn tests yourself for a fucking change!" Beelz shouts, stomping back to the test side of the room. "Or I will come back over there and break you open like a Frosted Mini-Wheat!"

"She really means that." Ligur says, raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't push."

"In junior year I saw her beat up a football player so badly he was in the hospital for two weeks." Crowley says cheerfully, sitting back on the terrible throne. "But you just keep on doing whatever you're doing there, Sandalphon. We have great medical. I mean, I'm sure it'll be a work-related accident and it'll be covered either way, but you just keep playing Fortnite or whatever it is you're doing."

"Those two are playing Fortnite." Sandalphon says sullenly. 

"Because we have nothing to actually test. We wait for you to write shit, then we test shit, then you write more shit." Beelz says. "And this is why I think Waterfall is full of shit, product-management-wise."

"Lunch, Angel?" Crowley asks, sauntering over to Aziraphale's desk.

"I would be absolutely delighted." He smiles, getting up. "Do you plan on eating today?"

"Maybe a bit. I'm sure I could be persuaded to have a bite or two of your lunch before ... dessert." Crowley waggles his eyebrows wildly. 

Aziraphale laughs. 

They see Gabriel putting up a poster in the cafeteria. 

"Bring Your Kids to Work Day." Crowley reads over Aziraphale's shoulder, and moans. "Wasn't last year bad enough?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine." Gabriel says. "They've matured in a year." He goes back to the meeting area.

"No, they won't!" Crowley shouts after him. "And no, they haven't!"

"How many children are there?" Aziraphale asks.

"Well, Bee has two. Uriel has the one daughter, Pepper. Ligur has a little boy, Brian - he shares custody with his ex-wife. And Michael has a little one called Wendy or something. They're all around the same age. They're adorable and faintly terrifying when they all get together because it turns into a riot. It's like college but they're all younger and a lot louder."

"Where did you go to college, anyway?" 

"Oh, in California. Caltech. Adorable boys in bathing suits and shorts all the time with their shirts off. Lots and lots of code. Delicious." Crowley takes a couple of Red Bulls out of the fridge. "I spent six months in Japan, that was fun. Really just made me really fussy about sushi, can't speak the language at all." Crowley drains one of the Red Bulls. "Have you ever had real ramen? Not the garbage they give you in packages three for a quarter at the dollar store, I mean, real, actual ramen? We should get some."

"You'll be eating?" Aziraphale asks.

"No, you will." Crowley raises an eyebrow. "Might have a noodle."

"Are you hitting on me again?"

Crowley grins across the table.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's past is revealed. There is ramen. (Yes, the Ramen museum really exists.)

They go out for ramen that evening. Crowley knows a little place downtown that serves it, a hole-in-the-wall that makes fresh noodles next to a Hong Kong style bakery. The Japanese place has three tables, and Crowley orders for them by pointing and smiling and speaking terrible fractured semi-Japanese. He eats about three of Aziraphale's noodles.

"In Tokyo, there's a Ramen Museum." He says, looking at Aziraphale over his sweating beer bottle.

"What, really?"

"Yes, really. Five different types of ramen." He swigs his beer. "In gradually decreasing sizes of bowls, so you don't get too full. Now, we have to go next door, because they have the most amazing mango pudding cake."

"Mango pudding _cake_?"

"Oh yeah, s' wonderful. Mango pudding cake. Layer cake filled with mango pudding. Delightful. I might even steal a piece from you." He leans over the table and murmurs to Aziraphale. "Have to feed my angel right. 'Sangel food cake. Mmm. Maybe Italian tomorrow. You like Italian?"

"I _adore_ Italian."

"Yess. Angel hair pasta." They go into the bakery next door, and Crowley gets him some cake. With a ridiculous amount of icing on top of it. 

"Mmm." When Aziraphale tries it, he's surprised how light it is. It's almost like clouds. Very fluffy. And the mango pudding is delicious. Crowley steals a bite of it - icing, filling and cake. 

"See what I mean?" 

"How is it that you don't eat, but you know all of these food spots?" Aziraphale asks around his cake.

"I read a lot of reviews on Yelp while I'm waiting for test passes to run." Crowley grins. 

On their way out, Aziraphale spots someone leaning against the Bentley. It's a man with dark hair and glasses.

Crowley sighs. "What do you want, Lucifer?"

"Oh, not much. Is this your latest? Isn't he fantastic? I've always thought so." He winks at Aziraphale. "First date? No, he wouldn't take you for Japanese on a first date, you must be a regular." He grins. "Ask him what he _used_ to do." He walks off. Aziraphale notes to himself that he has an awfully nice suit. 

He also notes to himself that Crowley is just sitting on the hood of the Bentley with his head in his hands.

Aziraphale puts his hand on a thin shoulder. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"Ex ... something." he mumbles into his hands. "D'you mind if we head back?"

"Sure. Of course." 

"I can .. I can drop you at your place, if you want."

Crowley's not even looking at him. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It's not _nothing_, Crowley. Tell me." Aziraphale puts his hand on that shoulder again. "Please?"

"I ..." he sighs. "I lied about a couple of things."

"Like what?" 

"Well, I never went to college, to start with." 

"So ... how did you learn to ... you know?" 

"Suck cock so damn well?" Crowley laughs into his hands. "Ask me what I did before I learned to code."

"What ... what did you ...?" 

"That wasn't an ex-boyfriend." He sighs. "I used to be a rent boy."

"You used to ..." 

"Whore yourself on the streets, yes, angel, you heard me." He sighs. "Was either that or food. So now you probably want nothing to do with me, right?"

"How old were you?"

"Seventee - wha?"

"Why were you on the streets alone at seventeen?"

Crowley just sighs, staring at the Bentley's steering wheel. "My mom threw me out of the house when she found me sleeping with a guy. Lucifer picked me up by Port Authority. Slept with me first - you know how pimps are, like to break their whores in - and then he farmed me out. To clients." He sighs again, deeper. "I just kept asking questions. That's how I got to be good at testing. Was always asking shit. Just ... kept asking questions." He laughs bleakly. "Maybe I ask too many questions. Hell, maybe I talk too much. Hit on too many guys. I don't fucking know. I really like you, though, but if you think this is ... too fast or something, I can ... " He just sighs. "I can take you to your place."

"I'd like that." Aziraphale says after a moment.

"Okay."

"I mean, I just want to pick up some clothes. I wore this yesterday _and_ the day before."

Crowley stops staring at the wheel and turns toward Aziraphale again. "What?" He startles. "You don't ... "

"A lot of people have done things they've regretted." He puts his arm around Crowley's shoulder. "I'm just glad I'm not one of those things you regret."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has Yet Another Idea.

That evening he sleeps curled around Crowley, holding him tight as though he'd get away if he let go. Crowley snakes around him, holding him just as close. 

When he wakes up, around six that morning, Crowley is still sleeping. He kisses Crowley, long and slow, and works his way down that perfect, narrow chest as the redhead gradually makes his way towards wakefulness. 

Crowley always wakes up with morning wood (at least in Aziraphale's limited experience, anyway) and today is no exception; he's already three-quarters hard, and that makes Aziraphale's job easy. He licks him first, all the way around that beautiful cock. His skin tastes good. Musky.

"Mmmm." Crowley groans and pulls up the blanket. Those golden eyes stare down at him. "I see what you're doin' down there. Yeah. Keep doin' that, will ya? I love your mouth - oh, fuck, I love your mouth on my cock, angel. Oh, oh, you've got _such_ a fantastic mouth." 

Aziraphale smiles. "Do I?"

"Oh, fuck yeah, baby. Oh, Christ, the things you do." His hips are pumping, flexing. "Oh, God, angel, your fucking _mouth_ is obscene, what it does to me. I don't know how I even walk around this city, you make me so fucking ha---ooh, fuck! Oh, fuck, baby, fuck, here it comes, yeah, yeah. Gonna spill right down your throat. You can take it, though. Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" His orgasm hits him and he twists on the bed erratically, biting his lower lip. 

Aziraphale swallows and climbs up Crowley's chest. "Mmm. You talk a lot."

"I do." Crowley grins. "Mouth's always been one of my defining features."

"I can see that." Aziraphale kisses that grin. "I like your mouth. I like your hands. I like your cock. I like your ass, I like your hips. I like your eyes, I like your hair. I like _all_ of you."

"Yeah?" Crowley wraps his hand around Aziraphale's cock. 

"Your eyes are the most gorgeous color. Your hair is incredible, it's like molten copper. You have the most amazing skin." He whispers. "I even love your freckles. Oh, your hands. I love your hands." Aziraphale can feel the orgasm rising in him, a hot spiral. "Oh, God, Crowley, you're just _wonderful_, all of you is wonderful." He came all over Crowley's hand and the sheets.

"You are more wonderful than I am." Crowley licked his palm off. "You even taste good, angel. Oh, damnit, I'm gonna have to change the sheets after work." He yawns. "But that was a wonderful way to to wake up. What day is it?" 

"Thursday."

"Oh, shit." Crowley moans. "Thursday."

They pick up Ligur, Hastur and Beelz, and then they go into the office, just in time for another code review of Sandalphon's code. 

This is even worse than the previous code was. 

"This isn't waterfall, this is water _sports_!" Beelz shouts. "Stop pissing on us!"

"Why are you always complaining about _his_ code?" Gabriel demands.

"Because he doesn't even know how code works!" Crowley shouts. "He can't write a proper exception handler, he _is_ an exception handler! The only way he got to be head of development is by sucking up to _you_! Five years of Scheme experience? How'd he get that, from understudying Phantom of the Opera?"

"Couldn't hit the high notes." Hastur mutters.

"Don't you wish that chandelier would fall on him, though?" Ligur nudges his boyfriend with his elbow.

"Once an hour, and twice an hour while we're dealing with his goddamn code." 

"Well, I have some announcements to make." Gabriel says. "As you all know, Bring Your Child to Work Day is on Monday, and I'll expect to see everyone there. The following Monday will be our annual staff retreat."

"We are _not_ doing mini-golf again." Uriel says firmly.

"Agreed." Michael and Beelz reply at the same time. 

"No, I thought we'd do paintball this time."

Hastur raises his hand. "So let me see if I understand this. For the staff retreat, you want us to go out to a range, you're giving us guns, and you're _encouraging_ us to shoot people?"

"Well ..." Gabriel replies. "It's only paint."

"This is gonna be _awesome_." Ligur says gleefully, rubbing his hands together.


End file.
